


could never want for more when you're near

by nightwideopen



Category: Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Asexual Character, Avengers Tower, Bingo, Clint Barton Bingo 2019, Communication, Cuddling & Snuggling, Deaf Clint Barton, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Fleetwood Mac, Getting Together, Harry Potter References, M/M, Marvel 616/MCU Crossover, Misunderstandings, POV Bucky Barnes, Post-Avengers (2012), SHIELD Agent Clint Barton, Texting, general thirsting over Clint Barton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-12 23:36:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19239382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightwideopen/pseuds/nightwideopen
Summary: “You know I love you, right?”The casual way Clint lets the declaration loose doesn’t blindside Bucky as much as he thought it would. And maybe Clint means it mostly platonically but his eyes are shining and Bucky really doesn’t care. He loves him, too.It’s easy. It’s inevitable. It’s like breathing.





	could never want for more when you're near

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Pride :)
> 
> **Square filled: First Kiss**
> 
> [some lovely ace clint art](https://nightwideopen.tumblr.com/post/185363539254)

“You’re insufferable,” Natasha says one afternoon.

Bucky looks around in confusion. He hasn’t said a word in forty minutes; he’s been reading _Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban_ on the couch in the living room of the communal floor and wondering if Doctor Strange could turn him into a dog for a day. Clint would get a kick out of that. Clint would probably pet him and let Bucky eat peanut butter off his nimble fingers.

“Huh?” he replies eloquently.

Natasha squints at him from her armchair. 

“Stop worrying about getting your heart broken and do something about your festering crush. It’s getting painful to watch.”

Either Natasha is in the business of telepathy these days, or he’s been really obvious. Though, it has been worse since Clint saved him from that three-headed shark last month. He can’t help it if his heart-eyes intensified, Clint looked so good drenched in seawater and he’d been so worried; Bucky never stood a chance. And he takes a little too long to answer while reminiscing on it. 

“I was just reading–”

“ _Insufferable_ ,” Natasha growls and goes back to fiddling on her phone. 

Steve enters the room then, sitting very close to Bucky on the couch and peering over his shoulder to see what he’s reading. It’s a move so familiar that Steve probably doesn’t even realize that Bucky should’ve flinched at the proximity. Steve’s face lights up when he recognizes the book. 

“Oh, cool, I love this one. Sirius is my favorite.” Then he frowns. “Too bad he dies though.”

Bucky squawks then smacks Steve right in his face with the book. Steve clutches at his nose. 

“Ow! Jeez, was that for?”

“What the _fuck_ , Steve?” Bucky shouts indignantly. “I haven’t read that far yet!”

“Oh.” Steve looks away from Bucky to the off television, suddenly finding it very interesting. “Um. Sorry.”

“Are you not even bleeding?” Bucky notices as an afterthought. “That woulda knocked you on your ass back in ‘39.”

“Well good thing those books hadn’t been written yet,” Steve grumbles.

A long silence ensues in which Steve actually turns the TV on and Bucky angrily goes back to reading. Natasha breaks it after long enough and Bucky is so close to throwing his book _at_ her. He just wants to watch the movie already; Clint says it’s the best one.

“James has a crush on Hawkeye,” she announces flippantly.

Steve side-eyes Bucky skeptically. “Kate?” he asks, stupidly.

Bucky hits Steve with the book again, harder. He still doesn’t bleed. “Is he this much of an asshole with you?” he asks Natasha seriously. He turns back to Steve. “I’m gonna get Tony to de-Serum you.”

Natasha just rolls her eyes.

“Clint, dumbass,” she says, disregarding everything else.

“ _Oh._ That makes sense. You should just ask him out and stop staring all creepy-like.” He purses his lips in thought. “I think Clint knows by now anyway.”

“Knows what?” Clint asks promptly as he propels over the couch to land on Bucky’s other side. 

Bucky feels himself freeze even before his brain clues into the fact that Clint is less than an inch away from him. He’s not as close as Steve is, but he’s close enough. Clint doesn’t invade Bucky’s personal space any further than he knows he’s allowed to, but he brushes up against Bucky’s flesh arm, tellingly damp and warm. He’s not wearing a _shirt_ and he still has his bracer and glove on and he was clearly at the range. He’s so fucking beautiful, just a little out of breath and grinning at Bucky expectantly. 

And it’s not a problem, not at all. 

Except it is because everyone’s staring at Bucky – and Natasha has that _told you so_ look in her eyes – so he panics, desperately trying to tear his eyes away from Clint’s before he starts _crying_ or something. 

“Sirius dies,” he blurts.

“Aw.” Clint frowns deeply and double checks which book Bucky is up to. He’s been very enthusiastically involved in Bucky’s magical journey. “Who told you? I’ve been keeping such a good lid on it. And you know I’m bad at keeping secrets unless they directly threaten national security.”

“Steve,” Bucky mumbles.

“Dick move, Steve.”

Bucky tries to subtly shift away from Clint’s inviting body heat, but Steve is in the way so he doesn’t get very far. He can’t help but watch Clint’s profile as he strikes up a conversation with Natasha about dinner. His hair is sticking up in every direction, lighter now that it’s well into summer. His freckles are starting to show more as well. The dark purple of his hearing aids stand out starkly against every bright bit of him, tucked neatly behind his ears. Naturally, Bucky’s eyes wander further, along the sharp angle of his jaw to the slope of his neck where it meets his shoulders and Bucky really wants to lick him. The thought hits very abruptly, and once that train leaves the station it’s impossible to stop it. Bucky squirms, accidentally elbowing Steve in the process.

“Ow.”

Bucky is going to kill Steve. Because the commotion makes Clint turn. He catches Bucky staring, and sends a sideways smile while he continues talking. Bucky quickly looks away. He can feel Clint trying to scoot away from him, and he buries his nose into his book. Clint must’ve _seen_ the thoughts running through his head, right on his face.

“I’m…” Bucky can’t think of a good excuse, so he just gets up. “Bye.”

And he knows Natasha’s eyes are on him, probably mentally berating him for being as smooth as the fucked up pavement of New York City. 

Which is fair.

+

“Hey.”

Clint’s eating a popsicle, smirking at Bucky across the kitchen while leaning casually against the doorframe. Bucky pauses in his innocent sandwich making and turns to make sure Clint is actually talking to him. Bucky might have been avoiding Clint for the past few days since he realized that it’s not just a crush and he definitely maybe wants to slam Clint against a wall and kiss him half to death. 

Among other things. 

“Hi?”

“I was gonna take Lucky for a walk. Wanna come?”

As if on cue, Lucky leaps into the room, sliding across the marble floor and colliding with Clint’s legs. It nearly topples them both over, but Clint manages to right himself even as Lucky’s legs slip right out from underneath him. Bucky’s heart jumps. He can’t say no.

“Can I bring my sandwich?”

Clint grins. “Only if I can have a bite.”

“Okay.” Bucky can’t help but smile back. Tentatively. He’s working on casual. “Deal.”

Clint walks them straight up Park Avenue, quiet most of the way. It’s awkward until it isn’t, but Bucky still spends half of the walk worried that Clint is going to say something about Bucky evading him at every turn. He doesn’t, content with stealing several bites of Bucky’s sandwich and rambling about possible solutions to the subway system, or ways to trick Tony into building a slide from his floor to Natasha’s. 

When they cross the avenue and start heading back towards the Tower, Bucky deems it safe to let his guard down. Which is, of course, exactly when Clint decides to confront him. He just cuts himself off in the middle of a sentence and angles his body towards Bucky without breaking stride, a rueful expression on his face.

“Did I do something? You know that you can tell me if I do something that bothers you, ‘cause I don’t wanna end up doing it again, you know?” 

He sounds genuinely worried, remorseful, and Bucky feels like shit. He pinches the bridge of his nose hard, hoping it’ll help sort his brain out. He’s such an idiot. Bucky’s been thirsting after the poor man while he was concerned that he violated Bucky’s personal space. 

“No. _No_ , Clint. You’ve been great with– You never have to worry about that, okay?”

Clint nods, avoiding looking at Bucky. 

“Okay,” he says decisively. “You don’t have to tell me what it was, then. It’s not my business. I hope you’re okay, though. I’ve missed you.”

And that’s very different from _I’ve missed shooting with you_ or _I’ve missed running into you in the kitchen after we’ve both had a nightmare._

There’s a moment where Bucky almost reaches out for him, but he stutters. He doesn’t know what he was going to do, put a comforting hand on his shoulder? Hold his hand? Bucky’s always been content to let Clint – and everyone else – initiate physical contact with him and it’s strange that he almost does it himself. It’s strange that he _wants_ to. But he supposes that’s standard for his raging crush, for the overwhelming desire that he’s struck with when he so much as sees Clint. His thoughts are finally manifesting themselves into actions. Great.

They’re quiet as they fall back into step with each other, settling into a matching pace. Then Lucky weaves between their legs, causing Bucky to trip. Clint saves him from falling onto his face by the belt loop of his jeans.

And he doesn’t let go the whole way home.

+

**_[4:01 AM]_ **

_u okay?_

**_[4:07 AM]_ **

_fine_

**_[4:07 AM]_ **

_don’t lie_

**_[4:14 AM]_ **

_im not lying_

_dont be an asshole_

_why are u awake_

**_[4:15 AM]_ **

_same reason u are_

**_[4:19 AM]_ **

_ok fine_

_you got me_

_movie in ten?_

**_[4:20 AM]_ **

_hot chocolate?_

**_[4:21 AM]_ **

_sure_

**_[4:21 AM]_ **

_it’s a date :)_

+

Bucky showers quickly, thanking every higher power that led him to cut his hair so he doesn’t have to worry too much about it, and slips on the softest hoodie he can find. He opts out of pants, aiming for maximum comfort and hoping that his hoodie-with-only-boxers look will make him look at cuddly as possible. 

Never has he ever wanted so badly to live up to the legend that is Bucky Bear. 

And maybe he took Clint’s text a little too seriously. He tried not to overthink it, he really did. But by the time he was rinsing the shampoo out of his hair and shaking off the last remnants of the nightmare, he’d realized that Clint said it, not him. He can’t be blamed if he accidentally takes a text message literally. That’s the beauty, he’s learned, of the 21st century. So now he’s wide awake, wired and nervous for a date that he conjured up in his head. Perfect.

“Hey,” Clint mumbles sleepily from the kitchen floor when Bucky arrives. He’s smiling softly, hair and shirt equally rumpled, Lucky draped across his lap. “Hope you don’t mind I brought this good boy, he started whining the moment I closed the door.” 

“No problem at all.”

By the time Bucky’s finished making the hot chocolate, Clint has woken up a bit. Lucky settles by their feet as the movie starts to play, and Bucky realizes that he doesn’t even care what it is. He watches Clint watch the movie, finishes his hot chocolate quicker than he intended to and ends up with empty hands and nothing to fiddle with. 

And he gets _nervous._ He gets stupidly nervous in the same way he vaguely remembers feeling when he’d take a date to a movie and wasn’t sure if she wanted to kiss him throughout or if she actually wanted to see the film. He knows that Clint knows his boundaries, knows that Clint has worked out what’s a safe distance to be from Bucky, but Bucky doesn’t have the same knowledge of Clint. It’s never posed a problem, because Bucky’s never actively sought out someone else’s touch, and had to work up to being comfortable with everyone else touching _him_. But now he really wants to reach out and _do_ something, he just doesn’t know if he’s allowed. It’s a replay of their walk the other day, but at least this time he knows what he wants.

Because Bucky is tired of wondering, tired of being afraid. No more pussyfooting, he’s the goddamned Winter Soldier. So he squares his shoulders best he can with Clint presses up against him and prays that the words leave him in an unaffected tone.

“Clint.” 

Bucky’s voice comes out pitchy and mangled, and Clint looks at him worriedly. His impossibly blue eyes hit Bucky’s with an immeasurable force, and it nearly knocks Bucky’s breath right out of him. 

“Yeah? You okay?”

Bucky nods. They both know he’s lying.

“Are we– Is this–” Jesus Christ, Barnes, spit it out. “Is this really a date or were you only joking?”

Several emotions that Bucky can barely catch flicker across Clint’s face in an instant. But before Bucky can wonder, that easy smile settles back across his lips. Bucky wants to kiss it right off him.

“Do you want it to be?”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Nice. Nice deflection. Shit. I walked right into that– Okay. Fine, yeah. I really do. I really like you and I really want it to be a date but I don’t want to make an ass of myself if you don’t feel the same way but I've been killing myself wondering. I can’t _take_ it anymore, Clint, I just want–”

“Bucky.” Clint cuts him off laughing. “Bucky! It’s okay. I do, too.”

“What?”

“I _was_ only joking, but if you don’t want me to be, then I’m not.”

Clint holds his hand out, palm up, looking at Bucky expectantly with a shit-eating grin on his face. He manages to send Bucky’s heart racing and his mind quiet all at once. So Bucky drops his right hand into Clint’s left and feels the warmth seep right into his bones. It’s been a long time since he held anyone’s hand, and he misses the sweet simplicity of it. The innocence, the comfort. 

“Okay,” Bucky says, nodding fervently. “It’s a date then.”

Clint nods back, biting his lip, but when Bucky starts to lean in, he drops his head onto Bucky’s shoulder. But that’s okay. No rush. They’ve got all night.

 

Bucky wakes up with an archer on him, who’s snoring softly into Bucky’s sweatshirt. Good thing it’s the softest one he owns, then. The smile starts in his chest, and it’s like nothing he’s ever known. Just having Clint here with him in the harsh morning light at his most vulnerable is enough for Bucky to want to wrap him up and keep him safe forever. Then the contentment of right now mixes with memories of last night, of Clint’s soft laughter at the movie and the way he shamelessly held Bucky’s hand tight. It’s perfect, all of it, and Bucky is an idiot for not asking sooner. He could’ve had this _the whole time_. Fuck, Natasha was right.

So he smooths his hands through Clint’s hair and watches him stir awake. He burrows his nose into Bucky’s chest, shying away from the sunlight. When he looks up, he close enough that if Bucky just closes that little bit of distance–

Clint turns his face, smiling softly. He presses a kiss to Bucky’s nose instead. 

And then he’s gone.

+

“You know I love you, right?”

The casual way Clint lets the declaration loose doesn’t blindside Bucky as much as he thought it would. It’s kind of perfect, how it happens; they’re just lying in Bucky’s bed sharing the headphones – sort of, because they had to get a headphone splitter so Bucky is using regular earbuds and Clint is using his own hearing impaired headphones – plugged into Clint’s ancient iPod and trying to make a playlist of songs they both like. It doesn’t feel too soon, too crazy, too out of the blue. Because they’re not even _together_. They’re just best friends who go on dates and spend more time with each other than their actual best friends and maybe Clint means it mostly platonically but his eyes are shining and Bucky really doesn’t care. He loves him, too.

It’s easy. It’s inevitable. It’s like breathing.

“Yeah,” Bucky says, grinning madly. “I know. Me too.”

Clint tugs on Bucky’s dog tags that he didn’t think he’d ever want to wear again. But the weight of them on his chest isn’t as restricting as he thought it would be, and he’d like the way Clint put it – a memento of who he used to be. He’s allowed to carry that around outside as well as inside. He’s allowed to remember that Bucky, the one he sees in himself sometimes. Plus, Clint likes to tug on them to pull him closer like he’s doing now so he can sink his teeth into the meat of Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky hasn’t gotten a kiss out of him yet, but he’s had plenty of Barton-shaped bite marks to trace over before they fade. Tonight’s no different. 

Bucky goes easily, noses into Clint’s soft hair. He doesn’t know what much else he can do, has so much pent up affection that he wants to unleash on Clint but he doesn’t know what’s okay and what isn’t. So he slowly wraps his arms around Clint’s waist, waiting for him to settle, the 70s playlist in their ears still softly playing _Landslide_ by Fleetwood Mac. 

Bucky likes Fleetwood Mac. He says so. 

The tension slips out of Clint eventually, when Bucky thinks he’s sure that a move isn’t going to be made on him. He wishes Clint trusted him more than that, that he wouldn’t touch Clint in any way that he hadn’t specifically asked for. His hands have done enough bad things.

“They have a show in a few weeks,” Clint mumbles sleepily. “We should go.”

It sounds like a bad idea for two people who notoriously hate crowds. But Clint knows that well enough. 

“It’s at Radio City. Tony could probably get us a box if I ask _really_ nicely.”

Bucky nods. Sleep will take him soon, too. “I’d like that.”

 

They go, and it’s nice, holding Clint’s hand in a relatively public space, doing something they both enjoy. Clint is all bright smiles and smooth movements as he dances along, lighting up at the songs he’s particularly fond of, songs that he’s told Bucky reminds him of being a kid. Clint’s life is a careful Venn diagram of moments he looks on fondly and moments he’d rather forget. Sometimes they blend together, like listening to _Rumours_ on a dusty old record player when his hearing finally came back that first time. 

Bucky wishes he had a soundtrack to his life like that, rather than fragmented versions of himself. He told Clint this, and Clint is determined to do just that. Hence Fleetwood Mac, live in concert. Bucky’s first gig in seventy-five years.

When they’re walking home, November air swirling between them, Clint stops them in front of a closed café and looks down at Bucky. He’s searching Bucky’s face for something, but Bucky can’t tell what it is. His expression is as earnest and open as Bucky’s ever seen it and he hopes that Clint finds whatever it is that he’s looking for because Bucky will give him anything he wants, no questions asked. He doesn’t look away for a while, just starts drifting closer until his forehead bumps into Bucky’s and he sighs. His eyes slip shut but Bucky can’t get himself to look away, goes cross-eyed trying to keep his eyes on Clint, trying to decipher the moment.

But the moment shatters the second that Bucky’s lips brush against Clint’s. He jumps back, startled, going red in the face. Bucky immediately tries to apologize but Clint shakes his head hard so Bucky shuts up. 

“Don’t apologize. Please. Just don’t.”

“Okay,” Bucky blurts out quickly. “I won’t.”

He puts his hand out, palm up, an invitation that Clint knows he doesn’t have to accept. But Bucky’s relieved when he does and holds on tight.

“Thanks for tonight,” he says softly. “I’ll make you hot chocolate when we get back?”

Clint nods. “Yeah. Please.” He presses a fleeting kiss into Bucky’s temple and pulls him along. “Let’s go home.”

+

Clint has slept with a lot of people. At least, that’s what Bucky has heard through S.H.I.E.L.D. gossip and his own inferences from the redactions in Clint’s file. News travels fast through an organization that can’t spill its secrets to the outside world, and Bucky has spent enough time in elevators with S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel when visiting Steve to get the gist of Clint’s skillset. Teasing and flirting and sex included. Apparently, he’s the perfect honey trap, second only to Natasha, and that’s why they work so well together. And so often. Which is frankly more than Bucky wanted to know. He doesn’t know how they manage a friendship that isn’t tainted with awkwardness and too much information if his intel is at all reliable.

But he hasn’t been on a S.H.I.E.L.D. sanctioned mission in a long time, and Bucky is shamefully glad of that. 

Curiosity often almost gets the better of him. Nagging thoughts about just how good Clint is at baiting his targets with the promise of sex – and how often it’s actually gone that far – are regretfully at the forefront of his mind.

Bucky doesn’t ask Natasha about it; that would be breaking Clint’s confidence in the shaky relationship that they’ve managed to forge over the past couple of months, on top of their previously attained friendship. Natasha would never tell him anyway. She’d give him that judgy look like she always does when he pretends not to know basic etiquette. Besides, he wouldn’t want Clint asking Steve something like that. Hypocrisy isn’t a good look.

And he sure as hell doesn’t ask Clint about it. 

It’s just… Bucky likes Clint _so_ much. He hasn’t liked someone this much since… he can’t even remember. But he wants to get to know him for real and wants Clint to know him. He also kind of wants to tell Clint things that are too inappropriate to say around other people. But Clint doesn’t do any of the things Bucky accidentally catches his reflection doing when Clint is around. No lingering heated looks or unexpected blushes to mingle with the flirty banter. There’s not a hint of those skills that are so unabashedly flaunted in his file. So Bucky worries that his attraction – if nothing else – is one-sided. _That_ would sting. He used to have game. 

But Clint’s behavior says… otherwise. Sort of. He’ll act as Bucky’s own personal blanket, will nip at Bucky’s skin when he’s close enough to do so, wherever available. He’ll sit half in Bucky’s lap during breakfast, shove his cold feet under Bucky’s thighs. Clint spends more time plastered to Bucky’s side tracing over the fissures of the plates on Bucky’s metal arm than he does most anything else. It winds Bucky right up, having him so close, so of course he doesn’t tell him to stop. He’ll take Clint any way he can have him. It’s just that sometimes he’s really itching for a kiss, for something more. Really _really_ itching, enough that he’ll lean himself into Clint’s space, grinning like a fool and trying to plant one him when the moment warrants. But Clint dodges him, every time. The only thing Bucky’s likely to get is Clint’s wet lips to his cheek before he darts off to bed.

And _maybe_ Clint only sleeps with so many people for work. Because it’s his job. Or maybe he’s just not interested in Bucky. Not like that, at least.

Bucky tries not to take it personally.

+

Clint is sprawled out all over him half-asleep, just like he always is, and it’s almost an exact repeat of that first time Bucky tried to kiss him. He’s _so_ close, just close enough for Bucky to crane his neck just a _tiny_ bit and–

And Clint squirms away until he’s sitting up on the opposite side of the bed, leaving Bucky cold and disappointed.

“Is it me?” he asks in a surge of uncharacteristic frustration. So much for not taking it personally. “I won’t be mad if it is, but–” Bucky watches as Clint immediately curls up on himself, defensive and trying to be as far away from Bucky as possible. Christ, that’s not what Bucky wants at all. He backtracks cautiously but quickly. “Sorry. Fuck, I’m sorry. You don’t owe me anything. I’m just confused, okay? I just really wanna kiss you and you won’t let me.”

Clint mumbles something that not even Bucky’s enhanced ears catch. He shakes his head like he’s trying to clear it, then looks Bucky in the eye, determined.

“I’m asexual,” he says firmly. “And I’m not leading you on. I like you. And I’ll have sex with you if you want, okay?”

And that’s… that’s so wrong in so many ways. “Clint, you don’t have to have sex with me if you don’t _want_ to, Christ–”

“I’ve never kissed anyone before,” Clint admits in a rush before Bucky can say anything more. Bucky’s mouth falls open and then snaps shut again. That’s not what he was expecting.

“But what about all the people you’ve slept with?” He doesn’t mean it to sound like an interrogation, but the way his voice hardens makes it easy to misconstrue. Bucky sees Clint move to clam up again and jumps to amend it. “I did _not_ mean it like that. Fuck, that’s not even what I– I’m sorry.”

Clint shakes his head. 

“It’s okay. I mean, it’s not okay, it’s super insensitive, but I forgive you.” He huffs a sarcastic laugh. “I know you’re not doing it on purpose. I’ve just had to explain myself so many times to so many people, dealt with all of the questions and disbelief and accusations. Every time I get into a relationship I gotta come out all over again and even to my own ears it sounds like I’m trying to convince _myself_ that it’s okay. This is just how I am, okay? And I don’t do anything that I don’t want to do. Before this,” he gestures between the two of them, “Becomes _anything_ , you need to know that. I just–” He sighs raggedly. “It’s stupid. And fucking exhausting. I hate being like this.”

“It’s _not_ stupid.” Bucky is sure of that. “You don’t have to… to _justify_ yourself to me. I accept you as you are. I don’t need reasons. And I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable I should’ve asked–”

He _should’ve_ asked. He should have fucking _asked_.

“Jesus, Clint, I’m so fucking sorry.”

“You didn’t know. I mean, it’s just kissing right?” Clint smiles sadly at that. “I wanna tell you. Because I honestly should’ve told you sooner. We’re not very good at this are we?” His thumb brushes absentmindedly over the top of Bucky’s hand, soothing them both. Bucky had thought they were. “I _have_ slept with a lot of people. On missions and with the circus. No one since… a while. Jeez, I haven’t even been on a mission in a while. Since I met you, I think… Anyway, sometimes it was just me, sometimes Nat was there. I liked it better when she’s there, she could usually divert their attention from me for a bit. And like, that was maybe so we could collect intel or whatever so we’d trade off but when she found out, she– It’s… I hated it. A lot of the time, it was just… the worst. Sometimes it was okay, ‘cause it feels good if you ignore how much you’d literally rather be anywhere else. But most of the time I just wanted to crawl out of my own skin afterward, you know?”

He knows that Bucky knows, but waits for him to nod anyway. 

“That’s… something we should probably talk about. If we ever decide to try. Because I’ve never wanted to,” he continues. “I don’t know what it feels like to want to. I get it, like, I can objectively tell when someone is attractive where someone _else_ might want to, but it’s not– I don’t _really_ get it. And I need you to know that. That it’s not because I don’t like you, or I think you’re revolting or whatever else. I just don’t know how to see people in a sexual context. I’m not wired that way. I know how to _act_ like I do. Like, really fucking good at acting like it, but that’s about it. And I don’t want to do that. With you. I don’t want to pretend. So I will, if you want to, but only if I can without feeling like lighting myself on fire afterward.”

Clint takes his hand back, running it over his face and chuckling hollowly. Bucky gets the sentiment. Conversations are hard. _Explaining who you are_ to another person is hard. He can’t even imagine how long it must’ve taken Clint – how many discussions and confessions and missteps before this one – to be able to articulate this so well. 

And Bucky’s about to ask – what does all that have to do with kissing him? Clint must see it in his eyes because he starts talking again before Bucky can open his mouth.

“I’ve never let anyone kiss me. As long as I can remember that’s always been the _one_ thing I know how to want. But I couldn’t– Anyone that’s ever wanted to be with me only wanted to be with me for sex. For one night, for a weekend, for the summer. This, that, and the other thing. And I couldn’t let them take that from me. So I let them take everything else.

“But _this_ ,” Clint squeezes Bucky’s hand hard. “I want you to have this. I trust you. Just… go easy on me, okay?”

Bucky nods. 

There are a million and one things flitting through his mind, a billion things he wants to tell Clint. But something tells Bucky that he doesn’t want to hear them. He knows who he is, he knows that what’s happened to him isn’t fair. Clint knows very personally what was taken from him, and if he’s willing to give Bucky this one part of himself that he’s kept under lock and key for his whole life, Bucky should handle that with the utmost care. This is the same Clint who’s made his bad nights more bearable, who’s made living here more comfortable. Clint who sat with Bucky in an elevator and stopped at every single floor all the way to the lobby and back until Bucky could fall back to sleep. Clint who was overly invested in how excited Bucky was about reading _Harry Potter_ , who never judges him when he fucks something up while cooking, when he can’t get out of bed, when he just needs someone to lie on the roof with him for six hours because he just wants to watch the clouds go by and pretend that he’s not a fucking _person_. Bucky owes Clint more than just empty words, promises that Bucky can just _show_ him that he’ll keep. So he nods again, more firmly, and takes Clint’s face gently between hands. Metal and skin on skin. 

Bucky just holds him gently, doesn’t push or pull or guide Clint towards him. He lets Clint take the lead, lets him lean in when he’s ready. He doesn’t want this to be like his first kiss, stolen in passing like it wasn’t important. Clint goes maddeningly slow, but steady and surely and soon he’s right there. _Right_ there. But Bucky doesn’t move, not this time. He’s not going to chase Clint away again.

Clint eventually nods to himself, closes his eyes and then he’s kissing Bucky, confident and firm. And Bucky wants it to be the best first kiss _anyone’s_ ever had. He kisses Clint the way he would’ve wanted to be kissed for the first time, like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do, like it’s the _best_ thing he’s ever done. And it is, because it’s Clint, and Clint trusts him so wholeheartedly and implicitly that Bucky thinks he might cry. Because Clint is so gentle and kisses like he knows exactly what he wants. So Bucky takes advantage of every enhanced cell in his brain to memorize this moment, should he never get this again, because it’s a _privilege_. Clint’s soft and warm, sleep-rumpled to boot, small disbelieving puffs of air escaping his nose. He tastes like toothpaste and smells the same way all of his favorite t-shirts do and he’s clutching at Bucky’s wrists, holding him exactly where he is. His lips go from dry and chapped to plush and warm, bitten red and Bucky has no idea how long it’s been. All he knows is that never wants this moment to end, but eventually, a desperate noise escapes him and it spooks Clint away.

“Sorry,” he rushes out. Clint’s still holding onto Bucky where he’s holding onto Clint. “It’s just better than I’d imagined.” 

Clint seems appeased by that, and he surges forward to kiss Bucky again, chaste and lightning fast but as brutally precise and impulsive as anything Clint does. He’s grinning madly and it’s the only thing Bucky ever wants to see.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Bucky blurts out, painfully honest and true. 

Clint smiles, shaking his head like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Likewise.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my [Twitter](https://twitter.com/616clint).  
> This is my [Tumblr](https://nightwideopen.tumblr.com).  
> And here is a [shareable post](https://nightwideopen.tumblr.com/post/185633745549) for this fic.  
> Comments and kudos are beyond appreciated. Thank you for reading!


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